Thursday, January 31, 2013

Like it Matters by Nancy Dzina

(is a poem within the poem AutoBiOblit)

Unblanked paper deceives. Quineauesque
introduction: disbosom. Pan-o-ram. Cotton Mather
implies licking, saucy, underlying substance. Chops.
Poetry got spendy. Losses may be paid by removal,
exposure, but not zero-sum style. Not prim.
Striptease, strip poker, speak easy but don’t
give it away. Hatta’s game is always afoot.
Starting gate is finish line. In the velodrome
of writing prompts, we are all of us going
on earth, all “rosy of glow” every time.
Where eternal repetition  means more than
broken record, form alone gives me
the slip. Probably pink. Imagine an ellipsis
no longer material. It’s Carl Sagan time, &
a no-brainer down to the letter. I know
therefore I am Superfluous Girl. Why try?

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Flurry, by JKD

a rewording, downparing of Dzina's "On the other hand"

Invisible petals 
through snow
a Sunday morning


Saturday, January 5, 2013

On the other hand by Nancy Dzina

After Jennifer K. Dick's poem "Palm Reading" after Cole Swensen’s poem “Fingers: Alignment”

Someone else sees
in their hands our eyes
no longer (ours). This fading’s
not so bad, so long
ago apparent, no need
to rush things, after all
we have light years
before our map carries
much less names.

petals drop, the flower
bursts to finish, the floor
holds a different notion of
where we are in the story.

The waggle of pages, time
gesture time: gently just-so cast
inner layer tender out then mend
one for another, knowing
and knowing not what hint
of rock may steady then break
any drift of witness. Even
interlocked phalanges
spring from open palms
unbrailled with potential.

When I was a kid, though I never
saw it, I knew the congregation
of the steepled church of hands
could become unpeopled
at the blink of a trigger guard.

Try to disturb my fist.

Good luck with that.